Curtains of the Night
by WeepingAngelXIII
Summary: Spike has travelled from LA to Cleveland to help out Faith as an Infamous Vampire Couple head their way from Vegas. Is it also coincidence that this is the moment where Xander loses track of Drusilla? Bad things are going to happen...
1. Mon Essentiel

"Je sais ton amour,

Je sais l'eau versée sur mon corps,  
Sentir son cours jour aprčs jour,  
J'ai remonté les tourments pour m'approcher encore."

Her lips moved in time with the music as she watched him across the room. He sat cross-legged within the pentagram, eyes closed, perfectly still. He was looking for guidance. She knew that by now. She stood up and risked peeping her eye through a curtain. She withdrew it immediately with a cry, clutching her eye.

"Now, what did I tell you," he said, without moving, as she tried to blink life back into her now blind eye. "You shouldn't try to look out before the sun sets. Or that will happen."

"Still hurt," she said, squinting at him. "But it's at night this town comes alive anyway, and we've got to stay out of his sights."

"He's miles away in California," he said. "It's not him I worry about."

"You mean the Slayer based here?"

"Yes," he said. "And the fact that there are tabs on this city by Watchers and Slayers alike is troubling."

"But we don't have to worry much right?" she asked, tentatively taking her hand from her stinging red eye. "One Slayer is hardly a challenge."

"Yes, but her Watcher was one of the Sunnydale kids. I'd be careful of him." She laughed.

"Darling," said coming to sit down beside the pentagram as he opened his dark eyes. "I've survived this long without being noticed. We've passed through Sunnydale before. I'm not afraid of them."

"Maybe," he said looking at her. "That I don't doubt. You were always a brave one. I'm just concerned."

"I know," she said, reaching forward, as the song on the CD player went into the second chorus.

"Je fais de toi mon essentiel,  
Tu me fais naître parmi les hommes,  
Je fais de toi mon essentiel,  
Celle que j'aimerais plus que personne,  
Si tu veux qu'on s'apprenne,  
Si tu veux qu'on s'apprenne..."

She sang along with the song until it faded out and he smiled at her.

"You always were good at French if I recall," he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Ah, memories of having a pulse." She stood back up and rubbed at her burnt eye. "Stupid sunlight. Dusk is brighter than you think."

"That eye had better be OK soon," he said. She looked at him.

"Why? Is it soon?" He nodded.

"We will see him again soon, I can feel it."

"OK, sure. So as soon as we have our business here done, does that mean we're driving straight to LA."

"No," he said. She looked surprised.

"How do you mean 'no'?" she asked. "Why are we not going straight to LA?"  
"We're not going to go to LA at all," he said. "We can cut him off." She looked down at him as he nipped the candles out with his thumb and forefinger and waited for him to continue. When he didn't she decided to press him further.

"How?" she asked.

"He won't be staying there. He's already leaving. He's heading for Ohio: Cleveland to be precise."

"So we go?"

"Only after we've finished our work here," he said, standing back up. "Viva Las Vegas: always going to attract trouble, and incidentally that's just what we want it for. Are you ready?" he asked. She smiled evilly at him with her true face.

"Ready when I get the go-ahead," she said, picking up her bag, and slinging it over her shoulders. He smiled at her.

"Good girl," he said.

"How long have we got?"

"Can't be long now," he said. "So no time yet, Sweetheart. But you know that as soon as we've pulled this off we've got to get to Cleveland as soon as possible. The Hellmouth will bring us there, and then... both the ritual and the revenge is completed." She smiled and came up close to him.

"You know you even somehow make talking about the Hellmouth sexy," she smiled, and licked her fangs. He laughed slightly.

"Maybe it's just you," he said, and she laughed and kissed him. There was a beeping sound from a watch on the table. The two of them pulled apart and he smiled as he realized what it was, grinning. "Sunset."


	2. Arrival

Faith sat on a wall by the boundary, waiting. She was bored (not to mention cold) and her coffee had frozen. This was one of the less glamorous sides of being a Vampire Slayer. She still had to wait. Faith sighed. If Robin wasn't away she would have perhaps rung him up and asked for a coffee, but still, couldn't be helped. She looked down the road. What the drivers were thinking of her was beyond her. They probably thought she was some kind of disturbed woman. Faith thought about it. It was probably true though. She definitely _had_ been disturbed; she'd killed people. She just didn't know if that one still counted against her. Faith glanced at her watch. OK, she had been sat here fifty-three minutes. Great. She had been sat down here for fifty-three minutes. Really? It felt longer than that. She shivered. It may be coming into spring, but it was still damn cold. Why was she doing this again? Faith shook her head. One of these days someone will be able to do tracking a lot more efficiently; _and when that day comes_, thought Faith, _I'll eat my own fricking stake_.

Faith shifted uncomfortably again and stared off down the freeway. She was considering ringing either Angel or Giles to confirm how far way he would be by now; but to be fair, it was a hell of a long way for him to get to Cleveland and even if he set off directly from LA and broke every speed limit on the way there (and wasn't stopping ) it would still take him a day and a half since she called LA in the first place, and time was not something she had plenty of. He was due now. Faith pulled her coat tighter around her. Damn, it was cold. Where the HELL was he? She looked down the freeway again and smiled as she recognised a car rocketing towards her in the distance. Finally!

A black car with blacked out windows zoomed down the freeway at least thirty miles an hour over the limit. Its brakes screamed just as it passed Faith and it skidded to a stop twenty feet away. Faith gave a small smile and walked down the road towards it. Someone opened the door and got out of the car.

"OK, Faith," said the driver in a strong cockney accent. "I got your message. What's the big deal over here then?" Faith shook her head looking at the bleach-blonde vampire with an expression halfway between annoyance and relief.

"Finally," she said. "Do you know how long I've been sitting freezing my ass off out here, Spike? Jees!" Spike gave her a look of vague amusement.

"Angel, in all of his wisdom didn't tell me too much," he said slamming the door of the car. "It was pretty much, 'Get over to Cleveland. Faith needs backup,': never said why. I went as fast as I could anyway. There still are speed limits, ya know." Faith snorted.

"And when did that ever bother you, Big Bad?" she asked. "That's not my point anyway. You came here coz I called."

"I know," said Spike. "What's your problem?

"The Hellmouth," said Faith.

"What about it?"

"There's something wrong. Don't ask me what, I don't know. But things have escalated demon-wise. It's like they can sense something. Something's coming and even some of the big tough-guy demons are getting scared (and it's not just how terrified they are of me). Something bad is going to happen when demons act like that; I make a point to worry if that happens."

"And Darling Robin?"

"Brazil," answered Faith. "Went off on some demon hunting extravaganza about a week ago. That's why I called LA to get backup. I may be needing help yet." Spike shrugged.

"Hellmouths always flux and call demons over. What's different this time? Or are you just missing talking to me?" Faith smirked.

"Missed ya? Yeah I have, but I would have just dealt with it fine until I realised we got a second problem. Just before I called you I got a text from one of the other Slayers. She says there's a car carrying two _very _dangerous vamps (apparently), headed straight for _this_ Hellmouth. Might be coincidence, maybe not. But ya see, I can do 'Hellmouth Apocalypse' alone, and 'Big Bad Evil Famous Vamps' alone, but I'm not risking both at once without help."

"So that's why you wanted me?" Faith nodded. "Famous vamps?" asked Spike.

"Her Watcher said so apparently."

"How dangerous?" asked Spike. Faith shrugged.

"Dunno."

"Who are they?"  
"Dunno."

"Can't be too dangerous then."

"Spike, two words: no survivors! Anyone who got too close ended up dead." Spike pulled a face.

"But that does tend to attract attention." Faith looked at him.

"So you don't care about either too much then?"

"Never said that," he said. "I'm just not worried. One thing all you Slayers need to get into your heads is that I..."

"Hold that thought," said Faith, as her jacket started blasting out heavy rock music. She slid her phone out of her pocket, checked the screen, shrugged and then picked up. "Hey, Xander. How's Vegas?"

On the other end of the line, Xander Harris sighed.

"On a scale of one to ten: it sucks," he replied. "I'm missing Scotland already; at least you could have a break there."

"That bad?" asked Faith.

"Oh yeah. Vegas is like LA. It's a demon hive!"

"Sucks to be you," said Faith. "I need to get over there and help you sometime. What's going on over there?"

"Right now?"

"Might help."

"I have no idea."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not there."

"Why?"

"I had to leave. We had to wait for a replacement Slayer and then we took the first flight over here. Took longer than I thought. We tried to get to LA but then found Spike had moved over to Cleveland, so we thought it was best to meet up with him here. Angel already knows."

"What?"  
"Problem that went down in Vegas yesterday, and I mean a big problem. I'd rather like to speak to you in person anyway."

"Well, Spike's here..."

"Good."

"Where are you anyway?"

"Right outside your apartment. Now can you hurry up and get home before I get Mena to kick your door down. We've had a long couple of days."

"I'll be there, just keep your Slayer away from my door or I'll have your other eye, Xander." Xander laughed. "No really," said Faith. "Eye." She didn't even have to see Xander to know how uncomfortable he was looking right about now. He'd seen her in her psycho phase and that was not something you just get over. "But anyway," said Faith, "We're coming, so just stay where you are. We'll be with you in a minute." She hung up the phone.

"What was that all about?" asked Spike.

"It's Xander," she said. "Bad news apparently."

"What bad news?"

"Dunno, so I'm gonna find out," said Faith. "Both Xander and Mena have come out of Vegas and over to Cleveland, so it's gotta be bad. If their problem has followed them here, I'll kill them. Bad enough living on a Hellmouth as it is." Spike laughed.

"Faith, as I was saying before, I can tell you now, things aren't bad." He looked back at her, revealing his vampire face and smiled evilly. "I'm the scariest thing you're gonna find in this city."

Barely five minutes after Spike and Faith had left the freeway and headed towards Faith's apartment, another car skidded through the boundary with so much force that one of the streetlamps was flattened as the car's breaks screamed. It screeched to a halt close to where Faith had been sitting only minutes ago, the driver's door opened, and a vampire got out.

She looked young, not even twenty physically, but her demonic features gave away her true disposition: a vampire, possibly centuries old, dressed all in black. She had icy white skin and sharp defined features (which could have made her look quite pretty when she was alive or not wearing her demon face) and ebony hair that fell to about two inches below her shoulders. She took a few steps away from the car, her black boots clicking as the heels hit the road and looked towards the city. She smiled, fresh blood staining her fangs and gathering in the corner of her mouth, then she turned back to look at the car and down the freeway, but really she was not looking at either. Her yellow eyes were glazed over.

"Home sweet home," she smiled, talking more to herself than anyone else who could be around to hear, and licked the blood from the corner of her mouth with a small laugh.


	3. Magic of Blood

The vampire girl kicked in the door of a church and started piling up bags by the door as fast as she could. Her watch beeped and so did that of the other one by the car.

"That's the five minute warning to sunrise!" she yelled. "Get moving!"

"Am doing," came the shout from over by the car, as he tried to pile as many bags as he could over his shoulder. The girl made a noise halfway between a groan and a scream and ran out to join him.

"I'll take those," she said, pulling the bags off him, barely requiring any strength to do so. "You get the other one." He nodded and opened the back door of the car, pulling out a huge bag (almost the size of a body-bag), slung it over his bag and followed the girl who had run back to the door with all the remainder of the bags. He slammed the door and the girl checked her watch again.

"Hell, that was close," she said and then looked up. "You could have picked somewhere a little more homey, Eli," she said. "Or at the very least somewhere with less crosses."

"Ever heard the expression 'beggars can't be choosers', Gennie?" he replied, without even looking at her. "Have you seen my chalk?" Gennie tossed him a piece of white chalk.

"Not my point," she said.

"You know that the only place where I can complete the ritual in the first place would be a Baptist church so..."

"I know, I know," she said. "But on the plus side this will soon be over. I've waited ninety-seven years. I'm not going to wait much longer."

"Patience..."

"Oh, to hell with patience!!! We need that ritual now. I'm getting tired of waiting! You have no idea."  
"I hate him as much as you do," said Eli, finally looking at her. "Don't say I don't understand." Gennie bowed her head.

"Sorry," she said. "You just know how..."

"Yes, I do," he said, setting the chalk down on the floor and coming over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I do... and you know that seeing you like this is doing the same damage to me." Gennie nodded.

"I know," she said, placing a hand on top of Eli's. "And you probably think I'm being selfish about this whole thing."

"Not at all," replied Eli. "In your shoes I'd be just as angry as you."  
"Eli..."

"Yes?"

"Have I gone mad?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I've changed. I keep looking back on my life like it happened to somebody else... and don't pull out that 'technically it did' crap, because I know that too, it's just..." She paused. "I'm not sure if I'm me anymore." Eli placed his other hand on her cheek.

"You're still you," he smiled at her. "Don't worry about it." He kissed her and went to pick up his chalk again. "Which reminds me, we'd better get this over with." He bent down and began to etch a pentagram onto the stone flags on the floor of the church.

Gennie walked down the isle, looking around her new home; then, as though thinking of something, ran straight back and kicked the large bag she had carried in.

"What should I do with this?" she asked Eli. He looked up at her and waved vaguely in the direction of the doors leading off the nave before going back to drawing his pentagram.

"Just throw it in a side-room or something."

"With pleasure," grinned Gennie and looked for a place to throw the bag. Eli finished his pentagram, stepped back and started on the other bags. He opened the nearest one and looked inside.

"Oh, bollocks," he muttered. Overhearing, Gennie turned around.

"What?" asked Gennie, running over to him, throwing the large bag over to the wall. "What is it?" Eli looked up at her, looking worried, and she looked over his shoulder and into the bag. Gennie swore loudly. "What happened?"

"Don't know. It must have broken on the journey."

"That's the whole length of the States, Eli," cried Gennie, kneeling down next to him and looking into the bag. "We've been all over the bloody place in the past decade. I've almost forgotten how England looks! It's been at least forty years since we were last there. How much of it have we lost anyway?" Eli lifted half a broken bottle, stained in blood.

"By the looks of it, this whole bag. They've all broken."

"How can they?" asked Gennie, her voice rising slightly in anger. "It's impossible. I was careful with those bags!"

"I'll check if any of the others are damaged," said Eli, trying to ignore his partner's fiery temper beginning to flare, and started opening and searching through the other bags. Gennie knelt down, staring at her non-reflection in the broken bottle. The bag, like most of the others brought in from the car, was full of bottles full of blood: not for them but for their ritual, and by the looks of things, that struggle in Vegas last night had meant that at least one of their bags had been battered and the bottles smashed. That could have been a whole week's worth of blood for all she knew; but it looked like one of the smaller bags (more likely to be a few days). Still, it was a setback that she didn't want. Gennie Winters was not one for patience (and never really had been, even when she was alive), and things were being drawn out for too long. She snarled slightly, and then got up, looking over at Eli. It took him a few seconds to realise she was watching him and then he looked back.

"The others seem all right," he said. Gennie sighed. Eli got up and came over to her.

"I know," he whispered in a soothing tone. "But it's not as bad as it could have been. Just calm..." There was something in his voice... Gennie felt her anger ebbing away, in spite of herself. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly into what could arguably have been a smile.

"How do you do that?" she asked. He smiled back at her.

"My sister always said I had a talent for empathy," he replied.

"So you aren't putting a spell on me?"  
"Damn, you've seen through my cunning plan," was the sarcastic response. Gennie smiled.

"Feeling better now," she said. "But do you know where he is?" Eli's pale face grew slightly darker as some kind of age showed on his face. He didn't like this subject. Gennie knew it had almost killed him watching her die; but they still needed to find him now. Since she had dug her way out of that grave the thought that constantly plagued her was him and how she needed to kill him for what he had done. Eli had had that thought too, ever since she had died, but he was less duty-bound than her. Eli was more free than her, and he had never let hate consume him. Sometimes Gennie wondered why he put up with her like this all the time. He was a very patient man, though. Eli shook his head gradually.

"No," he said finally, standing up. "But I can find out for you." He picked up the large bag that Gennie had hurled across the room. "I'm just dealing with this first and then I'll ask for help." Gennie saw his eyes flick over in the direction of the pentagram for half a second. "You go and get some rest," he said. "The sun will have risen by now and you haven't had some decent sleep for days."

"I'm sorry," she said, giving him a look of mock-innocence. Eli laughed.

"Just promise me you'll try," he said. Gennie nodded and Eli walked off with the dead-weight of the bag dragging behind him.

Gennie sat for a minute, still by the bag of broken glass and leaked blood. She was thinking again, but it was a danger to let her think. She had probably gone mad by now: nearly a century of being undead meant that she had let revenge take over her. That couldn't be a good thing, but as a vampire there was very little else left for her to have. All she had except revenge was Eli, her other half, always watching over her. What would she do without him? Wither and die probably. She was lucky to have him. He'd even stayed beside her when... Gennie scratched the stone tiles with her long nails. The thought of that monster and what he'd done just made her feel angry and sick inside. She growled like a lioness and slipped into her vamp-face.

**So angry...**

Picking up the broken bottle she hurled it at the wall with a cry of rage and watched the remainders of the blood clinging to the glass spattering the stone.

"Spike," she hissed, in a voice of pure venom. "You will suffer. I promise you."


	4. Sleepless

***WeepingAngelXIII is dedicating this chapter to Emma, who loves "Buffy" too, and is a big fan of this story.***

Despite Eli having advised her to rest, she still couldn't sleep, no matter how hard she tried. Gennie rolled over and looked at Eli sleeping next to her. He looked peaceful. She envied him. How could he do that? She hadn't had a good night's sleep for about a century. Propping herself up on her elbow, she ran the fingers of her free hand through his red hair and kissed his cheek. He didn't even stir. Gennie sat up and then stood up.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep." Gennie turned back round. Eli had rolled over and opened his eyes. Gennie swept her hair back over her ears in habit.

"Easier said than done," she replied. "How can you sleep? I can't. There's too much going on in my head." Eli gave her a sympathetic look.

"Gennie, come here," he said, sitting up and holding out his hand for her. Gennie sat back down and reached out with her own hand to meet is and laid her head down on his lap. Eli stroked her hair in a comforting way. "It's all right," he said in a voice that made Gennie's still heart melt. "It'll all be over soon, and you'll be free." Gennie sighed.

"You didn't have to be a part of this," she said. "This is my vendetta, not yours." Eli laughed.

"What are you talking about?" he said. "All this was my idea if you remember."

"But you should have never been involved. If you'd never met me..."

"Well, we're wasting time with all the 'what if's, Gennie," said Eli. "The thing is I met you."

"Ever wish you hadn't?" asked Gennie. Eli stopped stroking her hair for a few seconds, looking thoughtful.

"No," he said. "Don't think I have. I've wished I could have been better. I've wished I could..."

"He was a vampire, you were human," interrupted Gennie. "He was three times as strong as you were. What could you have done?"

"Could have shot him when I had the chance."

"But you didn't know he was a vampire then," said Gennie. "I don't blame you for anything. I blame me that a near miss got me killed, and I blame him for ..." Gennie trailed off as if searching for a word, her eyes on the verge of switching from brown to yellow. Eli noticed and lifted her up.

"Come on, shhhh," he whispered to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. "You're fine now. And before this week is out, we will kill him. You can have your revenge."

"I just hate being weak," hissed Gennie into his shoulder. "I could never bear it, even if I was a woman."

"And both you and I know better than anyone," put in Eli as they pulled apart and he swept a lock of Gennie's dark hair away from her face. "And it can't be that difficult now." Gennie smiled.

"True," she said, kissing him and then standing up and pulling a wooden stake from one of her bags. "I'm stronger than ever. He can't get me again."

Gennie whipped around at lightning speed and threw the stake hard at one of the pews. It hit the side, splitting the wood, both of the stake and the pew.

"He can't hide," she said.

"Have you been practicing?" asked Eli, sounding impressed with her throw.

"You reviewing me now?" asked Gennie. Eli grinned.

"It's in my nature," he smiled. "With a family, well, sister, like mine, you are brought up like that." Gennie laughed and came and sat next to Eli on the bed again. "You're doing well," he said, running his fingers down her cheek. "Very well."

"Eli, stop it," grinned Gennie, looking cheeky. Eli smiled back at her.

"You've been a good girl, haven't you?"

"No, I'm bad," grinned Gennie, running her tongue over her teeth, then across Eli's lips. He smiled as she pressed up closer to him. Then they both heard someone scream.

Gennie pulled away, looking over her shoulder to where the scream had come.

"Oh, for God's sake," said Eli, mightily disappointed. "She does have her moments! That does it! I've had enough of her." He reached over to a small box by the side of the bed, but another hand met his first.

"No," said Gennie. "You had your fun last time. It's my turn now."

"Gennie..."

"Please..." The girl pouted. Eli sighed. The thing with Gennie is she knew how to pout and she would always get what she wanted out of him.

"Go on then," he said. "Have fun."

"Thanks Eli!" Gennie kissed him and pulled the box away from his hand. She placed the forefinger of her right hand against his lips. "Don't think you've escaped yet, Fairweather," she grinned.

"I'm counting on it," he smiled as she got up and walked off towards the side chapel.

There was a woman inside, tied to a chair with a bag over her head still struggling to free herself. Writhing and screaming, she tried to break through the bonds holding her, but it wasn't working. Gennie slammed the door to make her presence known and the woman froze.

"You know, I'm sure when Eli was in here last time he told you to shut it," said Gennie, stalking the shadows by the walls like a tiger. "And I am not quite as forgiving as he is." Gennie opened the box she was holding to find a golden crucifix on a chain. It was not huge, like a pendant, but it was still large enough to do damage to a vampire. Gennie pulled it out of the box, not by the chain deliberately set apart from the crucifix itself, but by the pendant, and closed her hand tightly around it; ignoring the searing pain it was burning into her skin and the sight of her palm smouldering. "And I am not afraid to hurt people," Gennie continued, wrapping the chain around her finger and letting the crucifix fall away from her skin. "Now," she said, walking up to a box in the far corner. "You know me. And you know that I am not one to trifle with." Gennie opened the box and took out a drinking bottle, opening it and dipping the crucifix into the bottle. "Because it will end up hurting." She turned back to the woman and hung the crucifix in front of her chest. "A lot!" The water began to drip slowly off the crucifix, onto the woman's skin, burning where it touched like acid. She screamed louder. Gennie brought the crucifix right up to her chest so the small metal cross burnt its imprint on her skin. The screams heightened and then Gennie removed the cross. The woman still writhed and screamed but it began to quieten down. Gennie brought her face up to where she assumed the woman's ear would be. "Now do we get the picture?" she asked. "Because if you make another sound and I have to come back in here again, there are going to be some serious repercussions. Am I making myself clear?" Gennie removed the hood and stared into the harassed face of the tortured vampire. "...Drusilla."


	5. Lost

"Sorry, think I misheard there. You _**LOST**_ her?" Faith and Spike had made it to Faith's apartment about five minutes ago to let Xander and Mena in. Spike was now the only one still standing up. Everyone else had gathered on the corner sofa. Xander gave Spike a look of deep loathing.

"I resent the fact you make it sound deliberate," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "And I did not 'lose' her. She escaped." Spike sat down on a separate chair and raised his eyebrows at him.

"Really? Escaped?"

"How?" asked Faith.

"Yes, tell us all how you were outsmarted by a crazy vampire incapable of logical thought, Harris," grinned Spike. "Enlighten us." Xander glared at him again.

"She had friends in the city we didn't know about. If we had we would have stopped her getting away. But we didn't so someone hit Mena with a car and whacked me round the head with... something."

"You OK, Mena," asked Faith. The African girl nodded.

"Yes," she said, twisting her wavy hair around her fingers in slight embarrassment. "It is very good that I am Slayer, though. I would be hurt if I was not." Faith smiled. Mena was a sweet girl. She was sixteen and came from Tanzania. She was quiet and her English wasn't always the best, but it was very good considering she had only started learning it about a year or so. She did revert to her native Swahili if she'd forgotten a word or phrase, but nobody really cared. They knew her still-relatively-recent adjustment to America would have been hard, and as Giles had said, if one of the old gang had been asked to move to Tanzania would they be able to adjust immediately? Mena wasn't really the kind of person you would expect a Slayer to be though. She was like the anti-Faith (Xander had made that joke last year when Faith met her for the first and only other time). Faith was loud, bold, forward, and strong. Mena was quiet, reserved, and shy. That didn't stop her being strong though. Mena was the living proof that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

Mena looked back at her Watcher. He smiled at her.

"That's Mena: tough girl. Wish I had the same though." He rubbed his head again. "God, that hurt. You have no idea. My head is _dented_!"

"What did they hit you with? Rowes Wharf?" asked Faith. Xander leant back on his chair, looking resigned.

"OK, bully me all you want, Faith. I know I get no sympathy here."

"And Dru?" asked Spike. Xander looked puzzled for half a second and then realised that the conversation had backtracked.

"Gone. No idea where. But the thing was for her to be able to leave Vegas without us knowing, she needed two demony friends in order to keep both of us distracted."

"Why not just kill you?" asked Spike. Xander ignored him. Faith grinned.

"You enjoy your 'Giles' moments don't you?" Xander shrugged.

"A little."

"The thing was though," said Spike leaning forward on his chair. "Back to the not killing you bit, why not? In my experience the most efficient way to deal with someone you don't want in your way is to kill'em."

"Maybe it is possible that they want us alive for some evil?" asked Mena. "They do not want for us to be dead."

"Thought about it," said Xander. "But I don't think it makes sense."

"Or they were trying not to be noticed?" asked Faith. "If they knew the Watchers were going to get involved either way..."

"Still not buying it," said Spike, leaning back on his chair again. "It just doesn't make sense. But anyway, whoever was rescuing Dru, must have known she would be under surveillance."

"Someone inside the Watchers?" asked Faith.

"I'll ring, Giles," said Xander, getting up. "He needs to know what's going on over here."

"And Buffy?" asked Mena. There was a very long silence.

"No," said Xander, Spike noticing his eye glance quickly in his direction. "She'll have her own work to do. Besides, we have Faithy here."

"Yeah," grinned Faith. "Plus, we're on a Hellmouth. How can we be bored?" Xander picked up his phone. Spike got up.

"Where are you going?" asked Xander, sharply, shooting him a suspicious look. Spike raises his hands in mock-surrender.

"You got me there," he said. "I'm going to get some rest."

"What for?" Spike turned back to Xander as he started to walk towards the to a room off the side.

"I ain't had anything decent since LA."

"Goodbye," waved Mena, as Spike closed the door behind him. Xander started typing in the international code for Scotland when he saw Faith's face. She had raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he said. Faith laughed.

"He's had a soul for six years and you still can't trust him."

"Souls don't make you good people," muttered Xander, going back to typing in the number.

"Ouch," laughed Faith. "Direct shot at the crazy-Slayer."  
"Didn't mean it like that, Faith."

"I know." Faith stood up and looked of the blinds, now she was able to open them as Spike had gone, looking at the sunrise. "Welcome to Cleveland, guys," she said. "Home of the spawn of Hell. You're gonna love it."


	6. The Game Begins

It wasn't a long day, and the sun sank again before Spike had even time to register, the fact that night was closing in. He left Faith's apartment as soon as he knew the sun was down. He'd done that for two reasons. One: he didn't know how much longer he could resist punching Xander Harris in the face; and two: he was hungry. Faith, not being a vampire, hadn't stocked up on blood (why would she? She had no reason too), and Spike needed blood to stay alive (or un-alive… whatever). Faith had given him a couple of twenties and told him to run down to the butchers before it closed. Spike had only been too happy to oblige.

The butchers _had _closed by the time he got there, however, and that made him irritable. Spike was irritable when he got hungry, but the thing was, he wasn't going to kill anyone to get blood. His soul stopped him. Spike wandered the dark streets for a while, searching for a bar or something. Cleveland was on a Hellmouth; he knew that. That meant that lots of demons and things would gather here. Spike remembered _Willy's_ from Sunnydale. There had got to be something like that around here. It shouldn't be too hard to find.

There was a feeling, thought, that Spike hadn't managed to shake off since he left Faith's apartment. He had some gut feeling that there was something evil here. Besides, Xander's news about Drusilla had unnerved him. Something in the back of his head was itching to make a link, but eventually he shrugged it off. No. It was probably just chance anyway. Right?

Spike's thoughts began to drift gradually back to finding a bar, but it wasn't particularly hard to find one. He had been right. In abandoned areas of the city demons had set up bars for all creatures of the night. Faith would probably know about these places. It was her job to keep an eye on demons around here anyway. Spike smiled. The trouble was that he could actually imagine Faith beating bartenders to a pulp. He'd seen Buffy do it back in Good Old SunnyD. Anyway, drink. Spike went into a reasonably decent looking place, and looked around.

It was a reasonably good looking bar. It was full of vampires and many other different kinds of demons and hybrids. Spike cast an eye over to the barman. He was a green and scaly looking demon, with pointed teeth and claws. He was chatting rather animatedly to a small furry thing on a barstool, holding a pint. Spike approached the bar and leaned on the counter. The demon looked up.

"Hey," he said. "Vampire right?"

"Yeah, new in town."

"Welcome to Cleveland then, pal. Staying long?" Spike shrugged.

"Depends. Probably not."

"Shame. What you after? I've got a new stock of blood in. Or maybe something a little stronger."

"Blood'll do, thanks," muttered Spike. The barman nodded, picked up a glass and began to fill it from one of the taps.

"It's a good lot this. It'd better be. I paid a lot for it." He finished filling the glass, put it on the bar and Spike put a twenty on the bar next to it. "Bought it from the hospital. It's supposed to be the best stuff. That's what one of the vamps downtown says anyway. I rely on his judgement on these things." He handed Spike back the change. Spike nodded.

"Yeah," he said.

"So," asked the barman. "What brings you to Cleveland anyway?"

"My sire sent me over here," said Spike. "He'd got a message on something big coming down here, and sent me here to see."

"So he's not come with you?"

"No, left him in LA."

"You gotta be careful of LA nowadays," said the barman, leaning forward. "Wolfram and Hart's not been on our side for a while. Some soul-having vampire took over I heard."

"Yeah," said Spike. "I've met him. He's a right nob." The barman laughed.

"Maybe, but you wouldn't catch me going down there. I'm fine here on the Hellmouth. There's plenty of customers here anyway. I'm happy."

"Good for you," muttered Spike and downed the blood. The barman hadn't been kidding. It was good stuff. Spike had almost forgotten what human blood was like (he'd been living off animal for so long).

"Good?" asked the barman. Spike nodded vaguely. "Good," said the barman. "Doug knows his blood but he seriously can overcharge."

"Drac!" called another vampire from the other end of the bar. The barman looked up and gave him an indication he had heard.

"Sorry," he said. "I'd better go and sort this out." He made to go then stopped. "Oh, wait. Never introduced myself properly. I'm Draco."

"Spike."

"Nice to meet ya, Spike," said Draco, and turned to walk over to the guy who had called. Spike stood up. He'd had enough. Maybe he could help Faith out or something. Maybe even Mena (if Xander had set her up for patrol here). It'd make him feel better. That knowing sensation in his stomach was difficult to ignore. Something felt wrong and he wasn't sure what. Spike left the bar without looking or speaking to anyone and headed off back the way he came.

But someone had seen him leave the bar. A young man in a long black coat and scarf stepped out of the shadows of a side-alley and lowered his hood. He smiled evilly, swinging a bag in his left hand.

"Perfect," he grinned.

The phone let out a high pitched wail which made Gennie jump violently. She grabbed at her pocket and pulled it out, trying to remember which button was "answer" and which one was "dismiss". She guessed and pressed the button on the left, which seemed to connect it.

"Hello?"

"Gennie," (it was Eli) "you will not believe who I've just seen?" Gennie gripped the phone.

"You've found him," she dared suggest.

"Yes," was Eli's reply.

"Where?"

"I'm outside a bar called _Draco's_ if that's any help. I'll find you and show you if you want. Where are you?"

"I've been investigating the nearest hospital. I need to get that blood count back up."

"Good girl," said Eli. "I'll come and show you, you're only about a mile away. I'll come over."

"Do you know where he's headed?"

"No, unfortunately," said Eli. "But he's not the major concern now, sweetheart. We just need to keep an eye on him. We'll have to find out where he is. I'll show you to the bar and I'll go home, I might be able to cast a spell from there to flush him out." Gennie smiled.

"You know just how to please a girl, don't you?" Eli laughed.

"We just need him out of our hair for a few days. That's it. Then you can do what you want to him. I love you."

"Love you too, Eli."

The phone went dead. Gennie put it back in her pocket, and waited. Maybe the proprietor of _Draco's_ knew something? It would be worth a shot. Bar owners usually knew a town well. Gennie wrapped her fingers around the screwed up piece of paper in her pocket. Things seemed to be going all right now. Just a few more days: he didn't even have to know they were there. That's what Eli would prefer anyway, but Gennie was not Eli. She wanted him to live a miserable last few days, then, when Eli's spell was done she would finally have her revenge.


	7. Huntress

Gennie walked into _Draco's _with her usual air of superiority. She glanced around over the same tables and customers that Spike had seen barely half an hour earlier. She was on a mission. She was to spy on him. Someone must know him here. He had been here and the barman must at least have noticed. He was looking as though he was a reasonably sociable man. She should start by talking to him.

Gennie leant on the bar and looked expectant. It didn't take her long to be noticed.

"Hi, love. New round here too?" Gennie looked sideways at the barman and nodded.

"Yeah," she said. "Got any blood? I'm starving."

"Sure. Coming right up," smiled the barman. "Vampire as well. Second new vampire I've had in about half an hour. Do you know him?"  
"That depends," smiled Gennie, taking the blood from the barman and drinking it. It was amazing. Almost suspiciously so. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "It's great." The barman smiled.

"I know a guy," he said. "Doug. He's an expert of sorts. He gets me the stuff."

"Evidentially I need to talk to him," Gennie added, taking a hundred dollar note out and handing it to the barman. "You can keep the change if you tell me what I want to know." The barman looked uneasy but nodded slightly.

"OK. What is it?"

"Well," smiled Gennie. "I'm looking for my sire. She took out a screwed up photograph that she had tucked inside her jacket pocket and handed it over. "I suppose he will look different now. He's known as William the Bloody, or sometimes..."

"Spike," completed the barman staring at the picture. "Yeah. He's the guy we had in a few minutes ago. He's bleached his hair since this was taken."

"Has he now," she said. "What was he doing here?"

"His sire sent him or something. Don't know why. You'll have to ask him."

"Yeah, we're not on particularly good terms and haven't been for about a century. Thanks anyway," she said. "It's nice to know at least where he is. He can't be far from here."

"Does he know you're here?" asked the barman.

"Nope," smiled Gennie. "And he's not going to find out OK?"

"Sure," said the barman, pocketing the hundred dollars. "Nice to have you round."

"Hey, sweetheart. That place taken?" came a male voice from behind her. Gennie sighed and turned around. The guy who had spoken appeared to be human, although looks could be deceiving.

"No," she responded coolly. "But if you sit there I will move." The guy laughed as though he thought she was playing around.

"Aww, come on, baby. Don't be moody with me."

"Have a partner. Not interested."

"He doesn't have to know." Gennie was now feeling distinctly uncomfortable. This was getting too familiar. "I like you vampire chicks. I like the danger."

"Right, that's it. I'm going." Leaving her drink behind at the bar, Gennie stood up and made to leave, but barely got one pace. Gennie felt the guy (now behind her) grab her backside. She'd reacted before she was even aware she had decided too.

Grabbing his arm she flipped round and slammed the offended face onto the bar. The glass holding her blood shattered and then the room went quiet. Gennie leaned close and snarled into the young man's ear.

"Never," she growled, "EVER let me catch you doing that ever again."

"OK," he groaned, spitting out blood (both his own and from Gennie's drink). Gennie let go of him pulled out a lot of different coins and put them down on the bar.

"That's for the glass," she said and left. Three seconds later and the young man followed her.


	8. Dreams in Darkness

Gennie felt physically sick, like she had eaten something bad, but it wasn't just sickness. She felt dizzy as though someone had hit her hard in the head and she knew that she hadn't been injured. Gennie stopped to lean against the wall of an alley, trying to rub a drowse out of her head. Wait a minute! Drowse? Gennie groaned. Drugged: she'd been drugged. Someone must have put something in her drink. And Gennie knew exactly who it was.

It must have been that idiot in the bar. He looked just the kind of person that would do that. Lucky she'd left when she did. She'd better call Eli. If a Slayer ambushed her now she was in no condition to fight them off and she expected them any minute now. She'd done well to evade the Vegas Slayer but Cleveland was where an original Slayer was: Faith Lehane. She was supposed to be one of the best. She needed to get out of here quickly. Where was her cell phone? Gennie searched her jacket pockets and held it up. Everything was woozy. She couldn't remember how to dial. Gennie sighed. Well, whatever happened she couldn't stay here. She had no idea how long the drug could be in effect for and by then the sun may have come up. She wasn't planning on frying. Gennie struggled on a few steps and leant against the wall again. She stopped and looked back. Something was following her. She had just realised. How could she fight like this? Then it hit her.

_Because he had drugged her precisely so she couldn't fight back._

Gennie swore under her breath, willing her body to fight it.

"Not so tough now, are we?" came a familiar voice. Gennie looked up at the young man from the bar.

"Sorry, I don't speak Bastard," she hissed, trying to remain focused. "What did you do to me?"

"What do you think?" he said, looking disappointed. "I know it takes away the fight and therefore a lot of the fun, but if you'd said 'yes' we wouldn't have had to come to this."

"You bastard! I'll kill you!"

"Try now," he said. "That drug you've had a nice dose of is keeping you subdued." He picked her up and pressed her back against the wall. She tried to struggle, but she felt caged. "The thing is," said the guy. "I always get what I want." He forced her head back, trying to keep her gnashing teeth away from him. "And if you keep still it's not going to hurt you as much!"

"I've felt pain before," muttered Gennie. "More pain than you ever could imagine." She was so angry but it overlaid something much deeper: fear.

Fear and a memory.

"No!" she hissed. "I'm not weak. I'm nobody's bitch. Not this time." And she bit his fingers.

The guy recoiled, looking at his fingers in shock. Gennie snarled. Somehow her anger had drowned out any effect of the drug. All she wanted to do was to hurt him badly and as much as was possible. Gennie snarled and embedded her teeth in his neck.

She spat it back out immediately with a choke. That blood tasted like dirt. It wasn't human. That would explain his strength. She spat repeatedly, trying to rid herself of the vile taste. This was demon blood. He may have looked human but this was definitely demon blood. It tasted like crap. The young man yelled in pain and clutched at his neck, trying to stem the flood of blood being pumped out of the artery. Gennie spat out again. That was disgusting. Then she rounded on him again. OK, she couldn't drain him dry. Time for plan B.

"I'm not weak," she hissed and pulled something metal out of the inside of her jacket. "Not anymore." She grabbed him by the neck and stabbed at his neck.

"I... am... not... a... helpless... bint!" she screamed with each stab at his neck, his disgusting blood pouring out all over her. "It won't happen again!" Stab! "Never!" Stab! "Ever!" Stab! "Again!" She raised her weapon and this time brought it through his left eye. She let go of her weapon slowly, and let him drop. He didn't move. Gennie shuddered. She suddenly felt cold. She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. "It won't happen again!" she whispered, and then laughed. She didn't recognise that laugh. It sounded choked and forced, as if she couldn't really laugh and it was put on. Gennie felt the drowsiness coming back. She had to get away from here: now not just because of the Slayers or the sun, but because within a few hours the cops would be here. She looked at the body at her feet. "You deserved that," she whispered and stood up slowly. She had to get back to the church and quickly, the smell of this filthy blood was making her feel sick. She carried on walking down the alley, but still very slowly.

Spike sat up quickly and rubbed his temples. He had sensed it and he'd been wrong. These infamous vampires were something to worry about, especially if one of them was her. If the other one was that boyfriend of hers then there was an automatic problem rising. Both of them hated him and both would make extremely powerful vampires. Spike swore. He'd have to tell the others as soon as possible, but first... (he picked up the phone) what was Giles' number again? Oh yeah. He dialled the number.

"Hello?" came a rather sleepy sounding Giles on the other end of the phone (owing to the time difference Giles would be readying for sleep right now. The night was nearly over).

"Giles, it's me."

"Oh," said Giles, unenthusiastically. "It's you. What do you want?"

"How much of the Watchers' old documents survived the explosion in London?"

"Some," replied Giles. "Why?"

"Can Willow email Faith a copy of everything ever written by or about Eli Fairweather?"

"Oh, you're in luck," said Giles, the sound of rustling papers coming through the phone. "I actually own the Fairweather records. They weren't destroyed with the other records in the explosion... Why do you need those records anyway?"

"I'll explain later," said Spike. "Thing is though. I'm going to need those records over here. Everything you can."

"Everything?"

"Diaries, letters, records from the Council about who he was."

"He wasn't in the Council for long," said Giles. "He disappeared about a year after he joined. Nobody knew what happened to him. He did give a letter to his sister on the night he disappeared though. I have it somewhere at home."

"And how the hell did you get hold of all of this?"

"His sister was a Watcher too," said Giles. It wasn't really an answer to the question. Spike sighed.

"Can you just get Willow to send us those scans or whatever, please? They're needed."

"I'll get her," said Giles. "She won't like it though. She's just packing up to leave for the night. I'll get looking for those diaries." The phone cut off.


	9. Memories

**Yorkshire, England, 1913**

The freshly carved gravestone cast shadows of its words in the moonlight as the young man placed a small chained crucifix on it. Eli Fairweather sighed and rubbed the chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses, then ran his fingers along the words etched into the stone:

**Genesis Winters 1897 – 1913**

"Hello," he said running his fingers over the shape of the 'G'. "I brought this back for you." He touched the crucifix and ran his fingers back through his red hair his eyes shining. "I'm sorry," he said. "I couldn't save you. I should have done better. And now I have to do what I promised…" He took a wooden stake out from his coat and looked at it with misty eyes. "The thing is though… I'm not sure I can." He sighed. "Forgive me, Genesis," he said, took out a shovel and began to dig.

"What are you doing?" snapped a voice in the darkness behind him. Eli's heart skipped about five beats then made up for it by banging like a drum. He dropped the shovel and the bag he had had slung over his shoulder and stood up to face whoever had spoken. As he realised who it was his thudding heart froze again. A young woman stood in the shadow of the graveyard glaring daggers at him. Eli felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. If it could be worse than this he had yet to know of it.

"What are you doing here, Miss Winters?"

"I should ask you the same thing," snarled Elizabeth Winters, hazel eyes ablaze with hatred. "I have a right to mourn at my sister's grave. You are not welcome here, Fairweather."

"Do you think she meant nothing to me?" asked Eli. "I cared for her. I would never have hurt her."

He knew before the words had left his lips it would do no good. Like everyone else in this village, no one believed him. They all thought he was the one who had killed her. He was the one who 'found' her. He was the one covered in her blood. He was the one who she had taken an unnatural friendship to in a small space of time. That was the problem nowadays. No one believed in vampires anymore. They thought they were beyond believing fairytales. If they only knew. Elizabeth came up to him in the darkness.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "It's dangerous."

"Is that a threat?" asked Elizabeth, raising her eyebrows. Eli felt confused.

"No. Why would it be a …"

"I know, Fairweather, so there's no point in playing dumb," she snapped. Eli tried to answer but she cut him off before he started. "I know what you did to her. I may be a woman. I may be delicate, but I'm not stupid. I know it was you."

"Elizabeth, I…"

"Don't deny it! I saw her!" Elizabeth shouted. "I saw her sneak out every night to go to you. Every night for a year: ever since you came she did it. I knew you were trouble. You monster! Sixteen! She was sixteen years old. And I don't care if you don't say it was you. I have all the proof I want and I'll see you hang if it's the last thing I ever do!"

"I never ever touched your sister," Eli snapped back. "What kind of diseased mind do you think I have, Lizzie? What made you think…?"

"Look, I know it was you," she snapped. "You killed my sister, and I have proof."

"Well, I would have to congratulate you if you have proof, considering no such thing ever happened," said Eli. "Go home, Miss Winters. There's nothing more for you here."

"On the contrary…" Elizabeth snatched up the shovel. "Not until you tell me what this is for."

"Digging. I believe most shovels are." He had said the wrong thing. Elizabeth took a swipe at his head with the blade. Eli ducked but it caused him to overbalance and fall away from the grave, and in his fall the stake was lost in the darkness. Fear set in. He had to get Elizabeth Winters out of this graveyard and find his stake before Genesis rose from her grave. Neither of which were going to be easy. Elizabeth slammed the shovel down.

"Now what?" she said. "What reason would an innocent man have coming back here in the middle of the night to dig up my sister's body?" Eli swallowed. She did have a point. There was no good reason he had. Frankly he wasn't expecting her to be there. If he failed Genesis would kill him (best case scenario). If he succeeded and lived he would be put on trial and hanged for a murder he did not commit, and if Lizzie was still here and died there would be more of a case against him. He was stuck in a situation he was bound to lose. He looked up at Elizabeth, his throat very dry.

"I'm afraid you would never believe me," he said. Elizabeth laughed a cold, mirthless laugh.

"And what in the name of heaven is this?" The stake. She'd found the stake. Eli swallowed.

"Part of 'you'll never believe me'."

"Tell me then." Eli just threw it out.

"Your sister was turned into a vampire the night she died so I am here to make sure she doesn't rise out of this grave." There was a very long silence.

"All right. Now I know," said Lizzie. "You're not just a violator and a murderer; you are completely insane."

"Lizzie, you see I…"

"You stay away from me!" cried Elizabeth, pointing at him with the shovel.

"Lizzie…"

"Oh, for the love of GOD are you two finished yet?"

Both of them froze and then looked back at the direction where the voice had come from. Genesis Winters was sat on her gravestone now looking thoroughly bored. Elizabeth dropped both the shovel and the stake.

"By all that's holy…" she stammered. Genesis laughed. She was covered in mud, and had evidently been making her way out of the grave as the other two had been fighting and been sitting on the gravestone for God knows how long. Her nails were black and muddy, dirt clinging to her hair, skin and dress. She looked the same, just evil. Her eyes were bright yellow like a cat's, her face masked with that of the demon which now inhabited the empty shell that had once been Genesis Winters. She leered at them showing long pointed fangs. Eli dived for the bag but Genesis kicked it away.

"No, no, no. More fun like this."

"Genesis…" cam Lizzie's voice in barely more than a whisper. Genesis looked back at her sister.

"Lizzie," she said. "Sister. You're more observant than I thought, but you have got it _completely_ wrong."

"What are you?" asked Lizzie, shaking.

"Genesis Winters; or what's left of her." She grabbed her sister's wrist, who screamed as the cold dead skin touched hers. Eli crawled towards his bag but Genesis was still too quick for him. Letting go of her sister, she performed a perfect back-flip and put her foot down on the bag.

"Hello again, lover."

"Sorry," said Eli, hoping he had misheard.

"Hello, lover," she repeated.

"What are you talking about? I never…"

"So sweet when you're looking puzzled. Didn't you like me though, your little mystery, your pretty girl? I knew you always loved me, deep down: the only thing you couldn't have."

"Lizzie, you don't have to listen to…"

"Oh, I think she'd love to." Genesis looked at her sister. "But I'm hungry, Eli. Why don't we tell her later?"

"What…" Eli's heart stopped. Genesis licked her lips. Eli stared at her hungry eyes. "Lizzie. Run. Now." Genesis growled slightly and Eli attempted to dive for the dropped stake but felt two strong hands grab his shoulder and his neck and he was pulled back. "Lizzie, run!" he yelled. "Get into a house, hide. She can't pass the door if she's not invite-"

"Shhh," whispered Genesis into his ear. "Come with me and we can finish this. We can kill him for what he did to me. That's what you wanted all the long; isn't it Eli? Just one little favour first… Stay with me..." She licked her fangs and Eli struggled.

"Lizzie, run! For God's sake, run!" Genesis' cold fingers grabbed his red hair and yanked his head on its side, exposing the flesh on his neck. "Lizzie!" Even though he was expecting the pain he was not prepared for it. Genesis sank her pointed teeth into his flesh, fresh blood pouring from the wound and being lapped up by the girl clinging to his neck. He cried out again as she bit in deeper, clearly enjoying the pain she was causing, sliding her ice-cold fingers over his face, and then cutting her own finger open with her nail: red against the white. Eli's eyes were misting up, and with a gasp cried out the warning once more:

"Run!"


	10. Weaknesses

Eli woke up. How could he have fallen asleep? He reached up and touched his neck, at the point where Gennie had bitten him so many years before but only felt the scarf that he permanently wore to conceal his wound. He now wished he hadn't struggled so much. It may have been a lot less of a gash otherwise, and wouldn't look so ugly. Eli suddenly turned his head. He had heard something, someone was here. He stood up, his fingers closing on a knife that Gennie had left lying around, and turned around. A figure stood slumped in the doorway shaking. Recognising the silhouette he dropped the knife with a clatter. He had sensed something was wrong.

"Gennie!" She collapsed into his arms, shivering. "Gennie, are you all right." He sniffed and gagged. "And what is that god-awful smell?"

"Demon blood," she answered slowly. "He deserved it."

"Why? What happened?" asked Eli, supporting her over to a pew. "You don't look right."

"Drugged..."

"Bastard!"

"Eli..."

"What is it?" Gennie stared at an indistinct spot in the air.

"I'm not weak," she whispered, and bowed her head.

"You never were," Eli told her. He touched her forehead. It was cold (no surprise there) but also quite clammy. "Gennie, you're not looking too good. You need rest."

"I can't," she moaned.

"Well you need to," Eli argued.

"No, I can't rest, Eli. I really can't." She crossed both her arms across her chest and touched her shoulders. "Not when it reopens old wounds."

"What did he do to you?" said Eli, in a voice that shook with anger. Gennie shook her head.

"He didn't," she said. "I stopped him. He can't touch me now."

"Gennie..." Eli's voice sounded distant. He touched her cheek.

"Eli..."

"What is it, darling?"

"Draco's bar. There's something different about the blood there."

"What do you mean?"

"The blood. It tastes sweet."

"So..."

"Draco's supplier is giving him children's blood."

"Right," said Eli. Then he smiled. "That's perfect, in fact. That can replace the blood we've lost. We'll have to go back for it eventually. Gennie..." He held her close to him. She was still shivering. "You need rest."

"Easier said than done," she said. "I haven't felt like this since..." She wavered off. Eli kissed the top of her head, trying to ignore the bad taste of the blood in her hair.

"Shh," he whispered. "Everything will be all right. I'm here."

"I know," she whispered. "I just hate myself. All these years wanting revenge and now I'm not sure if I'm strong enough yet. I feel ..." she stopped, as though searching for a word. Eli sighed and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "We've just been given a second advantage. If the blood at that bar of yours is children's blood, then we have time to spare. Any Slayer coming and poking their nose in won't. We take the bar and the hospital and no one will suspect anything. We'd be ready in three days."

"Should I go...?"

"No," he said. "And for once, listen to me. Now you need rest. Sleep." He drew his hand swiftly across her eyes and Gennie felt herself sink immediately into a deep sleep. "Sleep," whispered Eli again, holding up her head. He held her close to his chest, rocking her like an infant. She lay still: quiet as her own heart. Eli rested his head back on the pew. He felt guilty again. He didn't like it. He hadn't been able to help her again (although this time he was merely not present than nursing several fractured ribs). And yet she would never blame him. She didn't have any anger to spare. She was too concentrated on killing her sire than anything else. He loved her. She'd known that before even he had done, but when he had known, when she had bitten him, then it felt overwhelming: a flame that even after a near century had never died. The letter he'd sent to Edna had already been sent and he'd known it was only a matter of time before she herself came to Yorkshire so he'd left with Gennie in pursuit of her sire. Gennie always hated to mention him. She hated him. She really _really _did. That was the flame that kept her going. What would happen once he was gone? Would she be happy? Eli hoped so, but wasn't sure. Was he being naïve about this: to believe in a happy ending? Still, he did believe what he had told Gennie. Time was their friend. Even if a Slayer had been alerted to their presence, the chances of her finding them in the next three days were very slim. They couldn't lose. And tomorrow he would put his side-plan into action. Not even Gennie knew what he was doing, but whilst she was out tonight he had done some work of his own. He now knew where the Slayer was, and could divert her target. Eli glanced over at the brown envelope he had left over by the pentagram. He would wait until sunrise, when the suspicion was off him or Gennie, and he'd deliver it to Faith Lehane. He smiled, imagining the reaction. That would be interesting.


	11. Diaries of a Watcher

The phone rang and Spike almost dived on it.

"Yes?"

"Spike?"

"Who else do you think it is?" Giles didn't seem impressed with his response.

"Look, I'm tired. Do you want what I have or not?"

"OK, sorry. What've you got?"

"Willow's scanning (I think that's the word) Eli Fairweather's diaries into the computer, or what's left of them."

"What do you mean 'what's left of them'?"

"The last sixteen pages have been ripped out, but it was like that when it came to my grandmother almost 100 years ago."

"Where does it cut off?"

"October 1913."

"He's smart."

"Sorry?"

"Doesn't matter. What else?"

"A letter he wrote to my grandmother that came with the diaries. I won't bore you with the details, but it says that he was going after a vampire that killed Genesis Winters."

"Which puts that in 1913."

"How do you know that?"

"Genesis Winters was a Slayer, and vampires need to know where the Slayers are, and who they are. It keeps us alive."

"Or in your case, them dead."

"So we don't have the ending?"

"No. We have no account of Genesis Winters' death because the pages are missing. The only reason we knew she was dead was a letter forwarded to the Council from Eli Fairweather."

"And no one thought that was odd?"

"What do you mean?"

"Doesn't this all seem rather Makimura to you?" There was a long silence at the end of the phone. "She's here, Giles. I've seen her." The silence continued.

"Which would explain...?"

"Yeah, and by the looks of things Fairweather knew what happened to Yuki Makimura and did not want another Slayer like her so he made sure no one knew."

"By destroying the last pages of the Watcher's Diary," said Giles. "And he disappeared off the face of the earth several days after she died. We can't even now be sure that the letter he sent my grandmother was honest."

"But it could have been," said Spike. "He thought the world of that girl. I wouldn't have put it past him to go after her killer."

"How do ...?"

"We've met. Crossed paths with that Slayer even. She was good. May even rival Buffy: may."

"And as a vampire she'll be using her old strength as well as that of the vampire." Spike considered.

"Guess so."

"That's not good."

"We have two Slayers over here. It's not as bad as it looks." Spike leant back against the wall behind him. Giles still sounded worried.

"Is that enough? You are against a Slayer Vampire."

"There's me as well," said Spike. "I think that's good enough. Just need to persuade Xander to keep Mena around here a little longer."

"Oh, yes: Mena. Have you met Mena before?" asked Giles.

"Saw her once in LA last year," said Spike. "Not seen her fight though, but I hear from both Faith and Xander that she's good."

"Buffy says that she is as well," said Giles.

"Good," said Spike. "Knowing Harris, he could have been exaggerating. But back on topic, anything else interesting we need to know?"

"Yes," said Giles. "It's probably not related, but it regards the Drusilla incident."

"Go on..." said Spike slowly.

"Whoever took her had knowledge from the Watchers and how they worked. Xander rang earlier to find out what's happened. Nobody's taken any original documents."

"What about the computers?" There was a muffled conversation at the other end of the line. Spike repeated the question. "What about the computers?"

"Hello?" A different voice, but one Spike knew had just spoken.

"Red?" At the other end of the phone line, Willow Rosenburg grinned.

"Hey, Spike. How's the US?"

"Dark, and I'm guessing that it is where you are too. Look, Giles said something about someone getting Watcher knowledge."

"Then I don't know how. I went through the whole computer system. Nobody's been hacking. So that means they've either got and informant or they..."

"...Work for you," completed Spike. "Or did..."

"Huh?"

"He thinks she did it?"

"Huh?"

"Ask Giles," said Spike. "But anyway? You got me those diaries?"

"Yeah. I'm having to send them in chunks though. Gee, this Eli Fairweather was quite the writer."

"OK, and how do I get it off the computer?"

"Open the file."

"Willow."

"Yes?"

"I was born in 1853."

"Good point. Well made. Go get Faith to do it."

"Fine. I'll ask her. If anything interesting happens... don't bug me. Bug Xander and he'll say something." Willow laughed.

"Sure," she said. "I'll do that. Oh, by the by Spike, tell me if you need anything else. Now I've got to sleep. I've been up all night. It's seven over here. Some of the girls are already up. Sorry, but they can get another witch to train with today. Seeya!"

The phone clicked and the single note of disconnection followed. Spike put the phone down and thought. He had got Giles' hint. Giles thought that Genesis Winters knew enough about the Watchers to be able to successfully pull off Drusilla's kidnap. That was now obvious. If that was the case Drusilla was definitely kidnapped and not (as Xander was thinking) rescued. Genesis would hate Drusilla almost as much as she would hate him. So if she had Drusilla, Drusilla would be suffering. Spike was so much more vulnerable than he thought. He had not considered her. He would have to talk to her, but first the others would need to know what was happening; and although he would hate to do it, he would have to tell them the truth.


End file.
